


Hors d'oeuvre

by supposed2bfunny



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Anal Fingering, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, G-Shock Inspired Smut!, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Murdoc 2.0, Oral Sex, Smut, aka my happy place, ask to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 03:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supposed2bfunny/pseuds/supposed2bfunny
Summary: After the band suffers a minor scare on-set while filming the G-Shock commercial, Murdoc feels the need to make it up to 2D. He never was good with words, but that's never stopped him from using his mouth before...





	Hors d'oeuvre

**Author's Note:**

> We all wanted to fuck Murdoc after the G-Shock video came out, right? Good. Read on and enjoy.
> 
> EDIT: Thank you so much to @callingtheworldfromisolation666 who was kind enough to advise a more accurate name for Mr. Ibe's actor. I appreciate the feedback immensely!! <3

The special effects with the alien, now those were planned.

But no one on set had told the band they would be creating a real explosion.

Or at least, if any disclaimer had been made, Murdoc had been far too drunk to read it when he’d signed the contract Jamie placed in front of him, and he hadn’t brought it up. 

Things like a makeup crew on-set, a promise to make sure he was rendered looking as tall and lean as possible (“not enough CGI in the bloody world,” that Hewlett bastard had mumbled), and plenty of drinks in the fridge off-set. Plus candied ginger and baby carrots with humus for Noodle, Russel’s preferred Soda of the Week, and a few single-serve bags of Monster Munch for 2D. Those were the details Murdoc had concerned himself with. The important stuff.

So when, in the middle of filming, the crew set off a literal-fucking-explosion behind the green screen, the entire band and performed the best acting of the day as they had well and truly been scared for their lives. 

They were all able to shrug it off at the time. It was contained, and within seconds as the director shouted “cut,” it became clear that they had overreacted. No need to cause a fuss in front of Peter Toshiro Hatsuno, who played the friendly Mr. Ibe. No need to make the crew feel bad, to lambast Jamie when he was bringing in money between albums for them. The four of them were expert dissimulators when they were in public; it came with performing on stages for a living.

It was a different story on the drive home. Noodle drove stoically, chain-smoking and muttering that she needed to get drunk. Russel didn’t speak a word, his ghostly white eyes looking into middle distance, seeing things that none of his bandmates dared inquire after. Murdoc was normally the one driving, feeling in control when he was behind the wheel. But since they’d stepped out of the filming studio, his hands had been shaking violently, and they hadn’t let up.

It was while he was fumbling with the flask he kept tucked in the chest pocket of his leather jacket (they hadn’t asked if they could take the costumes home; that went without saying) that he wondered if he should apologize. Murdoc 2.0 sometimes had thoughts like these. They were very novel, and his bandmates seemed to like them.

“I—” _I’m sorry. I know all four of us have post-traumatic stress disorder. I should have read the contract, spoken to the crew rather than rushing in drunk and ready for a dollar. I put your mental health on the line and it was such a bloody stupid, selfish thing to do. Please, _please _forgive me._ “I didn’t know.” 

And suddenly 2D’s hand was on his, also shaking, but not quite as badly. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

Wait, no. He’d cocked it up. Hadn’t said half of what he meant to say. “Faceache, listen, what I meant is—”

“You obviously didn’t know,” Noodle said, her tone was clipped, but she glanced at him fleetingly in the rearview mirror. “We can tell because you were just as scared as we were. You’re an idiot.”

“What else is new?” Russel asked, and they all started a bit and looked at him. They hadn’t heard his voice in nearly three hours. “Your being an idiot isn’t what makes you malicious, Murdoc. We know you weren’t trying to hide anything from us.”

“Wow,” Murdoc mumbled, allowing Stuart’s hand to guide his down onto the seat between them, to squeeze tightly. Their fingers brushed over the stupid goggles the singer had worn for the shoot, no doubt destined to be forgotten in the back of the Geep for months to come. “How touching. We all going to sing Kumbaya now, are we?” He’d learn to breach uncomfortable conversations, not to navigate his way through them. The desire to snark instead of thank them for their patience was overwhelming.

“Shut up, you old goth,” 2D tried to snap, and he was smiling a little.

“We should er, we should do dinner tonight,” Murdoc said, unable to accept their forgiveness without some sort of big gesture. Words were failing: action never did. Murdoc wasn’t great with words, but he thrived in verbs. “My treat!”

“By your treat, do you mean using the first check we get from these stupid watch ads?” Noodle asked.

“You say stupid, but I can’t help but notice that you’re still wearing yours,” he teased.

“What can I say?” she asked. “They’re pretty indestructible. Figure it’ll hold up well whenever I decide to start smacking you with it.”

“That’s a yes to dinner,” Russel said, something like the beginnings of a smile melting the corners of his mouth.

2D’s thumb was stroking the top of Murdoc’s trembling hand. The bassist scooted in just a bit closer to him.

XXX

Since there was still light in the sky when they returned home, they figured they had a few hours to kill before heading out to dinner. Noodle seemed to have abandoned her plans for getting blackout drunk, but she did retreat into her room, blasting Stevie Ray Vaughn (pure comfort music, she would say calmly, over the speakers turned up so loud that the walls would throb) and chatting in her baby voice to Katsu. Russel had slipped out back, towards a small garden they had cobbled together upon relocating back to Essex. ‘Garden’ was a generous term: they had a coy pond, some potted tomato plants, and a few types of herbs. But it was an excellent place to pull up a chair, look up at the sky, and, if you were Russel, smoke a cigar to unwind. Nobody ever questioned what he was thinking about when he was alone smoking like that. Doubtless no one could even begin to fathom it.

Murdoc was glad for the space, as he wanted to show his gratitude to 2D before their group dinner.

The younger man was speaking softly, haltingly, trying to weigh the pros and cons of the newest vegan restaurant that had opened up a few miles away, and whether it was better to eat there or at their preferred diner.

That’s when Murdoc pinned 2D up to the nearest wall and kissed him so hard the singer’s knees gave out.

“M-Murdoc—”

“My room,” he groaned against the man’s lips, keeping him held up by the tight grip he had on his shoulders. “Now.”

“N-no…”

The bassist pulled back, hurt blooming across his face. 

“My room’s cleaner…”

His expression relaxed. “Mine’s closer,” he countered, hands snaking around the taller man’s thighs, urging them up. “Besides, I washed my sheets within the past month. Or…well, maybe two. Better’n any claims you can make, anyway. Your sheets are rank.”

“Hmm fine,” he relented, hitching his legs up and securing them around the bassist’s waist as Murdoc carried him down the hall, kissing him all the way. 

As soon as his bedroom door was shut behind them, he dropped the singer onto his unmade bed, looming over him and kissing him with animal intensity, tongue mapping the shapes of 2D’s uneven teeth, the sharpness of his twisted canines and the divots in his molars, lips sliding slick and eager. All 2D could do was moan and take the aggressive attention, his hands rushing up to grab at the bassist’s hair.

“You look so fucking hot like this, you know,” he breathed as Murdoc began kissing down his jaw, seeking all the most tender places on his neck. “Love being able to see your brows, all of your expressions. ‘S how I knew you really were sorry about the explosion, today. We could all see you. You look so raw with emotion, _ohhh_...”

“Go back to the part about me being hot,” he suggested, laving at the patch of skin just below his ear where he’d just sucked a small bruise. “Less emotional stuff now, bluebird.”

“That fucking jacket with no shirt underneath? Tart-tastic.”

Murdoc paused his kissing and sucking to guffaw into his hair at that. “Tart-tastic. You’ve been wanting to say that all day, no doubt. Thanks, Wordsworth.”

“I wasn’t finished. Those jeans. Something I’d expect some cheeky rich punk from Kensington’d wear if he wanted to look tough.”

“What does that even _mean_?”

“You’re too old to be dressing the way Damon Albarn probably wanted to dress twenty years ago.”

“I thought you were saying I looked good—” his words were cut off with a hiss when the singer groped his semi through his jeans.

“I could practically see the outline of your cock through these when you sat back between scenes,” he said thickly. “Wanted to sit on your lap so bad, feel it twitch underneath my bum. You’re the only one, Murdoc, the only bloke I know who can look so naked while still wearing clothes. The only bloke I know who can make me want to strip for you in a studio full of people. Those fingerless gloves? Fucking _hell!_ What’s the point of them?”

“Wait till you see how good they look tossing you off,” he replied, smirking and sitting back so he could yank the singer’s tee-shirt off over his head. Much better. Those cute pink nipples were just begging to be pinched. 

He fell into winding 2D up in the ways he loved most, rough but not too rough, teasing, but with lots of whispered praise over his heated, and then flushed, sweaty skin. Within minutes he had the man reduced to panting and whimpering as he clung to Murdoc, hips snapping up seeking any friction, cock hard where it pressed against the bassist’s hip.

This wasn’t just a game to Murdoc. Sure, it was fun to get 2D to beg, and easy too. But this was about showing his thanks for the singer’s earlier kindness. And a celebration that they were okay. 

As stupid as it might have sounded to admit it aloud, he’d had a moment of genuine fear, and it scared him. There would come a time for him to ruminate over how much he hated himself for being so skittish despite the leather jacket and greaser hairstyle, despite the years of Satanism and debauchery. For the helplessness he’d felt in that moment, certain that he and his friends were in danger. The way all he’d been able to do was grip the man’s shoulder in terror and duck down. For now, as the skull-cracking bang of the explosion began to fade into the far corners of his mind, he filled his tongue with the taste of his lover, let his senses become lost in the sound, the feel, the warmth of 2D’s slim body pressing against his own. He needed to celebrate having 2D safe in his arms, wanted to give him the whole world.

“Need something?” he cooed, biting his nipple yet again, then blowing on it, smirking at the goosebumps than rose over the singer’s arms.

“Muds, just fuck me already,” he begged. 

“Actually, I had a different idea,” he replied, pulling back enough to meet 2D’s dark eyes. “Sit on my face, pet. Want to hear the noises you make when you ride my mouth.”

2D propped himself up on his elbows, gaze coming to focus on Murdoc a bit more. “You serious?” The high rise of his eyebrows suggested that he was very interested, but just a little dubious.

“You up for it? Been too long since I really heard you sing.”

“Ooh,” he bit his lower lip. “I’d like that. If you don’t mind…”

“Then lets get these stupid trousers off you. Too short on your legs anyway. Want to see those pretty thighs, taste you proper. ‘M famished.”

“Ooh god, you change your hairstyle and you start running your mouth, huh?”

“Just talking while I can,” he promised as he undid his flies, eagerly yanked both trousers and underpants down 2D’s slim hips, then guided each pale leg out of the clothing reverently, pressing kisses to his calves, his ankles. “With any luck, you’ll be keeping me from talking for the next hour or so.”

“Yeah, yeah,” 2D had learned to please Murdoc over the years, knew that the sight of him, naked and eager, was enough to give the bassist pause. So he didn’t rush the older man and instead let his legs fall open, reveling in the way Murdoc stared at his exposed body, stared like he intended to devour him. “”C’mon, old man, we haven’t got all day.”

His words might have had more bite were they not punctuated with a shiver as Murdoc’s fingers skimmed over his inner thighs as he spoke. The bassist smirked: he liked being fully clothed while the singer arched against him, nude and desperate.

“We really have, luv,” he said. “You just haven’t got any patience. I could savor you all day and _wellll_ into the night. In fact, nothin’s stopping me.” And with that, he dipped down and drew the head of 2D’s cock between his lips, sucking lightly.

The singer arched, entire body taut as the bassist’s tongue prodded around the tip of the head and he swallowed him down, inch by inch. “Oh, Muds. Yesyes_yesyes_,” 2D grit out, his hands flying over his head to grip at the sheets of the bed. After all, Murdoc’s new quaff was too sexy to muss up.

The bassist moaned eagerly, beginning to bob his head, long tongue twisting around the rigid length, squeezing slightly. As the singer’s cock hit the back of his throat and his eyes watered, he sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing out as he gazed up with a smoldering look. With his hair brushed back off his forehead, he was able to convey his emotions even more readily, want sharpening every feature: all 2D could do was whine. It was a rare but delicious sight for him to see reverence so obvious on Murdoc’s face. The older man kept it up for a few more minutes, alternating between open-mouthed kisses along his length and toe-curling sucks that had 2D biting his lips, struggling to keep from coming too soon. As eager as he was to please, the bassist couldn’t help but rut his own hips down against the mattress, groaning and desperate for a little pressure between his legs.

With a final, hard suck, he pulled off 2D, opting to leave a scattering of hickeys and kisses over his hipbones and around his pale thighs.

“Muds, please. Now?”

“Mm, yeah, bluebird,” for once, he went easy on him, pulling away and flopping onto his back beside the singer. “Climb aboard,” he encouraged with a wink.

Giggling, the younger man obliged, first crawling to straddle Murdoc’s waist and give him a quick, dirty kiss, and then slowly making his way up his body. He paused before he was fully seated over the bassist’s face, self-conscious.

“C’mon, luv. You’re teasing me.”

“Murdoc…” he looked down at his lover as his hands came to rest along the headboard. “You sure?”

“Stop being shy, dullard,” he mumbled, reaching up to trace over some of the hickeys he’d left along his porcelain hipbones. It was hard to be patient with 2D when he was so horny, eager to simply yank the man forward a few inches and start fucking him with his tongue. But he wanted him to relax and take the lead, to set the pace and take his pleasure from him. “I want this. And so do you. Let me give something to you, okay? Let me enjoy you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed breathily, reaching one hand down to trace Murdoc’s brow tenderly. “Okay. Just tap my thigh if you need me to get off, okay?”

“Oh, I need you to get off alright.”

“Seriously! If I get too heavy—”

“Sod this, I’m starving,” he snapped, slapping the singer’s ass playfully.

“Tosser!” he yelped, but his face broke into a smile as he scooted forward those extra few inches, hovering right over the bassist’s face.

Murdoc wasted no time in tipping his head up, inhaling the singer’s musk and kissing the flesh available to him: his sac, his perineum, the puckered pink of his hole, the seam of his thighs. 2D moaned and shivered, clutching at the headboard and rocking down into the questing mouth. Once he was sure the singer was comfortable, he reached up and grabbed his hips, holding him but not exactly guiding him: 2D would be the one to determine the pace and where he wanted to be touched. Nonetheless, the bassist needed handfuls of his flesh, to squeeze the warm expanse of his skin and ground himself.

He opened his mouth and licked a stripe up from his hole to his sac, then slowly took one ball into his mouth, suckling lightly.

“Shit, that’s good, Murdoc. Go easy, I don’t want to come too soon,” he warned, starting to let his hips rock, urging the bassist’s mouth back down towards his hole again. “Fuck, you were born to make me cum, you know that?”

Murdoc whined in agreement, sucking hard and obscene against his hole, then laving it with his tongue, not yet ready to push in until he was told. 2D gasped and grinded down against his lips, eager for more. 

“Go on, put it in. Open me up, handsome.”

He hummed, happy to comply, sucking again, but this time following up by pushing his tongue against that tight ring of muscle, working the tip in slowly and savoring the noises he was wringing out of his singer. After a few shallow thrusts, he began to push his entire tongue in, eyes rolling back at the taste and heat of 2D’s flesh, the slick sounds their bodies made where they touched, the way muscles in the singer’s thighs twitched.

“Oh god yes,” 2D all but sobbed. “More! Fuck me, Muds. Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_.”

There was no way he could tease him or deny him this: Murdoc could only moan in reply and work his tongue in and out eagerly, going deeper each time. As ever, they fell into a perfect rhythm, 2D setting the pace with a gradual rolling of his hips, Murdoc clutching at his legs, occasionally squeezing his ass playfully, and delving deep, deep into him with his clever tongue. Given that the bassist had a hard time breathing through his nose at the best of times, he was definitely struggling now. It didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was the place that their bodies joined.

With Murdoc’s mouth occupied, there was no need for speech between them, and the singer took his pleasure without further instruction, vocalizing nonstop as his hole was fucked loose, whining, moaning, and occasionally whimpering as he wound himself up grinding on his boyfriend’s face. He stroked his dick a few times, but focused on the pleasure that sparked where they touched, more interested on the stretch, the euphoric feeling of fullness that only Murdoc could give him.

As his climax began to build and his cries rose in pitch, Murdoc couldn’t hold back anymore. The pressure of his own cock throbbing against the zip of his jeans was too much, and, keeping one hand anchored to 2D’s ass, he fumbled down with his right hand, working his flies open desperately.

“Oh, you like this so much you want to touch yourself?” the singer gasped at the sound of his zipper coming undone. He tried his best to look back over his shoulder without losing the fantastic angle that had Murdoc’s tongue probing a bundle of nerves inside him, resulting in full-body shivers. “D’you want to switch? If I turn around, I can take care of you while you take care of me.”

A light tap against his thigh signified that Murdoc wanted him to pull back, which he did with some regret.

“No,” the bassist replied as soon as his tongue was back in his mouth. The entire lower half of his face glistened with saliva. “I like you facing this way. Don’t worry about touching me, luv. This is all about what I can do to you.”

The singer moaned softly at those words. “Okay, fine. But give me your hand. At least let me make it wet for you.”

It was all Murdoc could do to hold himself together as the singer took his right hand and began laving it with his tongue, suckling on his fingers and moaning eagerly. Soon saliva ran down his wrist as the singer used his hand to muffle his gasps and whines, hot tongue throbbing against his palm. 2D’s mouth was truly magical.

Murdoc finally jerked out of his grip, unable to hold back any longer and stroking himself hard and fast, breath leaving his lungs with a whoosh at the white-hot pleasure. Oh fuck, he’d needed that.

The room was filled with the dual sounds of 2D’s whimpers, the slick sound of tongue on flesh as Murdoc fucked his ass good and proper, and the sound of his own tight fist pumping his cock fast, hard.

“Fuck, yes,” 2D hissed, “oh, that’s so hot. You getting off on getting me off. Oh babe, deeper, _ah!_”

Murdoc could always go deeper. There was never any question about that. And now that 2D was good and loose, he began to work his hand in as well, practically choking as he jammed one, then two fingers into the singer alongside his tongue. It wasn’t the most pleasant angle to work with, and if it had been tough to breathe with 2D’s junk crushing his already busted nose, it was dizzyingly hard to get enough oxygen now. Still, the sounds he got for his efforts made it well worth it. 

“I’m going to come soon I think,” 2D sobbed, voice wrecked. “_God_ you spread me so good. I’m going to touch myself, okay? Come all over your face, handsome. Would you like that?”

Murdoc was so far gone in pleasure that he couldn’t even bring himself to be self-conscious as he whimpered in reply. And then the singer’s beautiful, long, slender, _dexterous_ fingers were wrapping down around his cock and pulling, and the sight and sounds had his hips jerking off the bed as he stroked himself towards his own rapidly-approaching climax.

2D was beyond gone: he was devastated, and Murdoc felt a rush of power and affection seeing his lover brought to such heights because of him. He moaned and resumed his efforts with even more speed and enthusiasm, hot press of tongue, deliberate drag of fingertips over prostate, lips sucking at his hole as 2D bounced on his face and fisted himself into a delirious orgasm.

“Oh, fuck me, fuckmeMurdoc_fuckme_Murdocfuckme!”

And suddenly he was coming, hot and thick all over his fist and Murdoc’s face and wailing with rapture. The bassist closed his eyes and reveled in it, taking in the splatters of cum, the feeling of 2D clenching and spasming above him. It was so good it tipped him into his own release, and he panted like an animal as he came into his fist, no doubt ruining his designer jeans. His vision went black, dancing with stars as he came and as 2D came and came and _came_ on him.

Finally, the singer stilled, though he continued to pant and whimper and shake. After a few moments, he seemed to collect himself enough to pull up, off of Murdoc’s face and to carefully crawl off of him, lying beside him on the bed.

The bassist gasped, finally able to draw a deep breath for the first time in a long time. For a moment they both stared at each other, struggling to regulate their breathing. After a moment, 2D broke into a shaky smile and reached down to wipe away a bit of cum that was dangerously close to dripping into the bassist’s eye.

“You’re a mess.”

“Thanks, pet. You look really composed. Off to a meeting, are you?”

The singer smirked and leaned down for a soft kiss. “Sod off, you tit. Now,” he pulled back, eyes traveling down the bassist’s body. “Maybe now I can return the favor for you—_oh_.”

“Right,” Murdoc felt his cheeks coloring. “Already taken care of, that. Um. Getting you so wound up had uh, really did it for me.”

“I can see that.”

The bassist rapidly tucked himself back into his thong and fixed up his flies, feeling rather ridiculous. “Er…”

“Don’t be embarrassed; that’s sexy. Really. ‘M chuffed.”

Murdoc couldn’t help but laugh at that, and 2D beamed at the reaction. “There’s a love. I’d offer you a fag, but you’ve got to clean your face off first.”

The bassist sat up and leaned over the bed, grabbing 2D’s tee-shirt and wiping his face haphazardly, knowing from the annoyed gaze the singer threw at him that he hadn’t gotten everything off. No matter; he liked being dirty. And given the wet feeling in his hair, there was no way he was leaving the house for dinner without a shower first. So he might as well savor this post-coital filthiness a little longer. “You’re no fun, bluebird, no fun at all.”

“Seriously, Murdoc? I liked that shirt. Fuck you.”

“I like it too, especially the banana on it. Phallic! Good look on you!”

The singer shoved him, looking equal parts amused and mortified. “This new hairdo really is making you into a monster, did you know that?”

He play-fought over the ruined shirt for just a bit before leaning in for a surprise kiss, heart throbbing at the way 2D gasped against his mouth. “Sure, but you love it,” he accused softly. 

“Murdoc I love…” he looked away, too shy to say it. The moment of emotional clarity was dissolving away rapidly.

He took 2D’s face in both hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks gently. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured, letting him off the hook. “Look at you, Stu. Naked and flushed all pretty, fucked open all for me. _I know_. You’re a wonder.”

The singer’s hands came to rest over his as he looked into his eyes. “I’m a wonder?” he asked, dark eyes reflecting every light source in the room. When he looked at him like that, so wide-eyed with disbelief, the world seemed to make more sense.

“Yes, Stuart. Well, that, and a wanker. Equal parts wonder and wanker, really.”

He figured he deserved the playful smack that earned him. And the follow up “I won’t talk to you until you wash the rest of my spunk out of your hair.”

Did he deserve the lingering kiss that 2D pressed to the back of his hand as he rose to go shower? Well, he wasn’t so sure about that. But he was happy to accept it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, feedback is so very appreciated!! If you haven't already, find me on Tumblr @supposed2bfunny. We can chat about the pros and cons of Murdoc's new hairdo <3


End file.
